Artificial Angel
for maia
Kairi was dead, to begin with. Lifeless. It was a fact, written permanently on her gravestone. Sora wished, more than anything, that he could erase the engravings etched infinitely into the granite. Or was it marble? He didn't care about that. He didn't care about anything anymore. He didn't want anything anymore. He only felt need. Need for one thing, one person. That was Kairi—a now unattainable desire. Unattainable. That's what she was: always there, but never really there. It didn't make sense to Sora. She only haunted him now. Everyday. Every moment. There she was, sitting at the foot of his bed. There she was, waving at him outside the classroom window. There she went, teasingly running across the shores so that he could catch her, him yearning for the moment they'd both run out of breath and collapse upon the sand together. Interacting with Kairi only happened in his mind, nowadays. Only in his dreams. And if the only place Sora could find her would be his dreams, then he'd opt to sleep forever.
When Kairi had gone off the treatments, she had decided she wanted to die at home. She wanted to die with her very few loved ones standing at her bedside. Her mother wept, gripping her only daughter's hand. Her father gravitated to a secluded, lavender corner, cursing to himself, just cursing and swearing over and over again. Sora watched Kairi, counting her breaths, holding his own. He was being undone, one stitch at a time. One stitch at a time, until he was an unraveled clump on the white carpet. His eyes had traveled from Kairi's paopu bed sheets to her hairless scalp. She was sixteen, but there in her bed she could have been ninety. Everything about Kairi had always smiled, now not one ounce of bliss radiated past her translucent skin. The irises that had once reflected the sky were concealed behind a drape of thin skin and a layer of lashes. She hadn't been awake for days, and the last word Sora had said to her was "goodbye," but he had meant it for the afternoon.
Not forever.
Now he wished, with all his heart, that he had chosen his last words to her differently.
Before Kairi's body was limited to her bed, she was limited to the shores down the trail from her house. Sora would always be her appointed escort, linking arms with her as they treaded the sand, supporting her frail body to prevent any stumbles or falls. Sometimes she couldn't take it anymore and had to be carried back. Sora didn't mind, but every time he held her, he could always feel her getting lighter and lighter still, the treatments taking more and more of her. It seemed to pass so quickly. For days, Sora couldn't quite brand it into his mind. He had to see it embedded on the gravestone first. That's when he was finally convinced: Kairi was gone. Everything was gone. It was as if all the moments they shared together had died along with her, leaving Sora with nothing. Everything had died except for Sora. He found that arguable; sometimes he'd wish that he had died along with her. When you die, your heart stops. When Kairi died, Sora's heart stopped. It was when that one, small gasp came. That was it. He had waited for more. Another breath. Just one more. But nothing more came.
People say when you die, your life flashes right in front of your eyes. Instantly. Sora had no idea what Kairi saw, he just didn't know. He would never know. But during that silently screaming moment during her last gasp, his life with her suddenly fast-forwarded through his mind. It was so quick, equivalent to a split second, but there it was. It was all there. Meeting the young redhead for the first time, drawing on the walls of the Secret Place, competing with Riku just to win a smile from her, drowning in her mockery when she had found him snoozing down on the shores, building a raft, talking about other worlds, being separated, going through a whole journey to find her heart—only to realize that it found refuge in his. Then there were the memories of the Oathkeeper, the promise they'd made, assurance that they'd always be with each other no matter what. Broken apart for a year, memories faltering, remembering suddenly, reuniting in an unexpectedly heartwarming embrace. The day he had finally returned to Destiny Islands, the day that he had finally returned the Oathkeeper, the day he wandered into the Secret Place and saw that she, too, had drawn a paopu fruit extended towards him in the picture they drew together as semi-toddlers.
He had known Kairi practically a decade, and it all ended with that one small gasp.
Her absence was all that mattered to Sora now. She was the only one on his role call list, and she was the only one who was never present. He had measured the days in smiles, the touch of her warm hand, pointless words being sent to and fro through the oxygen they'd once shared, and the way she'd nudge her shoulder against his when they stood side by side. Now he stood alone, no one at his side as everyone else crowded around her fresh grave and mourned and wept and cursed the heavens for doing this to them. Sora kept his distance, unwillingly basking in the warmth of the morning sun—warmth that he did not want nor need. The day was too beautiful to have a funeral, too beautiful for Kairi to miss even though she certainly had. He wanted rain to pelt the ground. He wanted a storm; like that very night she had been taken away from him. Because she'd been taken away from him again. Only this time… it was forever, permanent, a fact that a gravestone declared out loud.
But Kairi's death was not the only thing Sora hadn't thought would happen. It was the only thing she had left behind that caught him off-guard. As his glazed lazuli gaze wandered mindlessly and heartbrokenly through the graveyard, a trifle-too-thin frame clad in death-day black sat upon the neighboring tombstone. Sora edged towards the apparent female, her whole head covered in an ebony veil of simplistic lace. He wanted to know who dared to sit on his best friend's tombstone. Sora wanted to scream and shout, but he was still kindhearted even in his weary-dreary state. He only mumbled a greeting to the stranger, and internally bade his six-feet-under friend a good morning.
"Riku."
Sora's head shot up. That voice. So familiar.
"Riku," the voice behind the veil repeated again, peering down the gravestone she sat upon. A sigh emitted behind the lace, obviously saddened and disappointed at this earlier death. Sora stepped closer, explaining in mere murmurs that Truffle gases had affected both Riku and Kairi during a one-time visit to a world he'd promised to return to, and he had brought them along. Riku had passed immediately, but Kairi trucked on for a few more months. The unknown girl nodded, bobbing her head slowly as if she knew the whole story herself. Sora couldn't help but stare, pained eyes fixated on this female's petite body, wondering what lay behind the veil. Everything, everything was familiar. Then he knew, because he was not always as simple-minded as everyone thought him to be.
Sora inched closer, and reached out with both hands. There was a tiny gasp from the girl, a gasp that very much reminded Sora of Kairi's last breath. He swallowed, hard, stumbling back when the veil slipped back and revealed blonde hair and Kairi's face. The girl looked at him, expressionless, before a rush of melancholy emotion flooded her bleached chalcedony irises. A look of sorrow, separation, loss.
"Naminé," Sora choked out, thousands of words stuck and stranded in his throat. Then he exploded, questions erupting past his mouth and flowing towards the blonde. Why was she here? What was she doing here? How did she get here? What did she want? How could she possibly have her own body back? When did this happen? If Kairi was dead, why wasn't she dead, too?
Naminé looked awfully affected by that last question. She stood from Riku's tombstone and whipped around, back facing him, whispering that it was quite nice to see him again, too. That triggered Sora's guilt. He approached Naminé, beginning to apologize, wringing his hands. Naminé heard him step behind her and started walking away, anger building up in heaps inside of her as she snatched the veil away from her hair and tossed it over her shoulder. Sora frowned, hurrying on her tail, not bothering to catch the veil as the wind sent it flying past his face.
"I'm sorry—Naminé—I didn't mean it like that—I didn't mean it at all—"
"You meant every word," Naminé retaliated plainly, whisking on her heel and stopping abruptly before him. Sora teetered to a stop, biting his lip as Naminé continued to lecture him in a neutral voice that slowly, slowly started to gain emotion. "Every word, Sora. I know you're hurting. A lot. I know it so much. I was there. Through Kairi's eyes, I saw every troubled expression… every tear you held back. She knew it, too. She knew your pain, more than she knew her own. More than I knew my own. We both felt it. Kairi wasn't the only one dying. You were, too. And I, as well. I couldn't…" Naminé paused, catching her breath, finding her words. "I couldn't bear to see you like that. So when it ended, when her life ended, I chose to stay here instead of making the trip to her final destination, to the… to the other side. I made a promise, Sora. I made a promise to Kairi—that I would—I would always—"
Sora waited, brows beginning to knit together in concern and anxiety. He was used to weird, supernatural events like this, but this was different. It was personal. It was from the heart. Kairi's heart. From her heart to his. Kairi had sent Naminé. Her heart, spirit, and soul hadn't been strong enough to resurrect herself—no one had that capability—but, instead, strong enough to send him aid. A gift. A friend. A Nobody with a purpose.
An angel.
"You promised her that you would always—?" Sora tried to get Naminé back on track.
"That I would always, always keep you safe," Naminé breathed. Sora's gaze shifted towards her pale, soft mouth slightly tinged pink. Crystal droplets of salt ran over those tender lips, and Sora realized at once that Naminé had begun to shed tears. "That I would watch over you." The blonde reached up and put a hand over both eyes, slowly moving her fingers back and forth to shield the dampness. "But it's no use, is it, Sora? It won't help, would it? I won't help, would I? I don't know what to do. I can't compare to Kairi. I'm her shell. I'm going to fail her. This promise will mean nothing. You're always thinking of her. Not me."
Naminé's previous seven words hit Sora like a splintered iceberg. He countered, "I think about you, too, Naminé. I just—"
"No," Naminé interjected, dropping her hand to her side, stepping forward, a pained smile taking residence upon her facial features. "Sora, whenever you think of me, you think of Kairi. When you see me, you see Kairi. When you hear my voice, all you can think of is Kairi. My eyes, my face… everything just ricochets your thoughts towards her. I'm a reflection. That's all I ever will be, Sora. A reflection of the girl you love. You love her, and not me. You'll never love me for who I am. Only for who Kairi is."
"Naminé…" Sora tried reaching for her hand, but she drew back. "Naminé, please."
"Please what? Please turn into Kairi? Please bring her back? Please bring back everything you'd shared with her? Please make everything right again? Please leave you alone?" Naminé began to tremble. "Please—"
She found herself tight in his arms.
"Please," Sora whispered, warming her ear with his breath. "Please, just be Naminé. You're Naminé. Not Kairi. That's all I'm asking from you. Be Naminé, and everything'll be all right." Sora couldn't let go. Naminé was hurting too much. He had hurt her with his selfish thoughts of Kairi. They were both hurting. They could hurt, together. "If you promised Kairi something, you should keep that promise. But you don't have to if you don't want to; this is a different promise from all other promises. It's your choice, Naminé. You don't have to take care of me. You don't have to make sure I'm safe. You don't have to spend your time watching over me for Kairi."
"You're right," Naminé sniffled, detangling herself from Sora's embrace and wiping her eyes. She looked up at him with her periwinkle eyes. Not Kairi's periwinkle eyes. Her periwinkle eyes. Her own. Sora smiled down at her, sadly, but it was still a smile—a smile he hadn't done in ages. "I don't have to spend my time watching over you for Kairi."
Sora gave an understanding nod, beginning to back away in acceptance of her choice. Still, he couldn't help but feel blued at the thought that Naminé wouldn't be by his side. He already knew, deep inside somewhere, that she could have made things better. More tolerable. By herself, not as Kairi's self. Not because she reminded him of someone he once loved, but because she was herself: Naminé, who could remind him how to love. Someone who he could love. But this was her decision, and he had to understand. He turned around to return to Kairi's funeral.
"But I can spend my time watching over you for myself."
Naminé's words temporarily froze Sora up in an instant. His heart beating unusually fast, Sora didn't bother to turn around and eye the blonde in disbelief. Instead, he simply whispered her name, his voice filled with an emotion so full of something he couldn't quite put his finger on. "Naminé…?"
"Come on," Naminé told him softly, appearing at his side and gently taking his hand. "She's waiting for us."
"Y-yeah." Sora shed a single tear; one of the last he would shed for a while. His vision cleared up and he regained that long-lost determination that ceased to shine against his orbs for what seemed like thousands of centuries. One nod from him began their walk towards Kairi's flower-ridden grave. The pile had yet to receive one more flower. When they reached the tombstone engraved with the fact that Kairi had certainly passed away, Sora knelt down and pulled something from inside his tux—a single white rose. He kissed it before letting it rest on top of the pile, and Naminé smiled.
He stared right at the imprinted stone of granite or marble, for he still did not know, and breathed his true last words to Kairi.
"Thank you, for sending her."
Thank you for sending me an angel.